


The Golden Deer & the Case of the Ghost in the Nighttime

by ohroses



Series: no matter where you end up; you'll come running [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Gen, Mourning, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, i love my owl child lysithea and you should too, spoilers for chapter ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 19:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohroses/pseuds/ohroses
Summary: “What did the ghost look like?”“Ghosts don’texist,” Lysithea hissed. “So, do you see my personal conflict regarding the situation, or do you not?”A story about grief, coming together, and the strange ways people find to connect with one another.





	The Golden Deer & the Case of the Ghost in the Nighttime

**Author's Note:**

> I won't even apologize. I don't care! I wrote all of this while listening to more 80s sparkly magical girl stuff, and i love my baby FAWNS!!! you don't have to read the first work in the series to understand this one, but it is a spiritual sequel. a philosophical follow-up. a ghostly Descendant.  
Spoiler warning: PRE-TIME SKIP SPOILERS, nothing beyond chapter ten. Safe if you haven't hit chapter 11, but you've finished chapter ten.

There was someone at the door again. Byleth looked up from where she had been staring at the same page for an hour without moving or reading and saw Seteth in the doorway. She resisted the urge to jump out the window to get away from that determined kindness on his face. She hated it, wished he’d sneer or look smug or something.

“Professor, may I come in?”

Byleth put the book away and shrugged. “Yes.”

“I wanted to discuss something with you,” he said, closing the door behind him as he came in. Byleth frowned, assuming she’d have to jump out the window after all if she wanted to get away. “It’s about your behavior recently.”

She narrowed her eyes, a worm of anxiety roiling in her gut, she had tried so _hard_—

“Not like that, heavens, no. I meant to say that I’m worried for you. You look disheveled constantly, tired, you barely respond to questions, and you’ve been spending almost no time with your students.”

Well, when he said it like that. Byleth didn’t respond, not sure how to. He simply stood there, waiting, though.

“I just wanted to let you know that if you wanted to talk, I’m here. You don’t even need to talk about anything. You can just come to me. If not me, then promise me you’ll talk to someone. For the sake of your students, if no one else.”

Byleth nodded, not trusting her voice.

“I’m glad you understand. Grief is hard, change is difficult, and… just know that we all believe in you. Lady Rhea most of all.” With that he left, and Byleth was left alone.

She remembered Sothis’s discomfort around Rhea, her urge to be away from her at all times. Her father's diary, the entry about Rhea's unsettling attitude towards his heartless child. Byleth fought a wave of grief and loneliness. Her head felt so empty lately. Usually that was normal, her ability to empty her head, to compartmentalize, to put things away like she tidied a dresser; it made her feel in control, safe. But now it felt like she was, for the first time in her life, truly alone.

She felt that unfamiliar wetness on her cheek and the sharp pain in her throat. Ah, tears.

Tears never ended after you learned how to weep them.

She went through her days in a haze. The nights were the worst. She barely slept anymore. Today was no different. She lay in bed, remembering Sothis at the window, her father on top of the covers, chatting and laughing with her. 

When the clock struck midnight, or close to it, there was a scream outside the dormitories, and a pounding of feet. The scream travelled as it shook the night. It was shrill and it went on for some time, so Byleth hauled herself out of bed and grabbed an axe she left near her headboard. She was the first out, already running towards the source, barely shaken. Being a mercenary did that to you.

But fear sank its teeth in her when she saw who it was cowering near the stairs that ascended to the second dormitory. She picked up the pace, straining every muscle, axe ready, but Lysithea didn’t look hurt. Byleth ran past her and up the stairs, stalling in silence as she waited for a noise, an attack, anything that would explain her student’s shaking form. There was nothing.

“Lysithea,” Byleth called in a soft tone, as close to gentle as she could get with an axe brandished and an eye out for someone to sink it into. “What’s happened?”

There were more people coming, and Byleth could pick out Claude and Hilda, tailed closely by Edelgard and a girl Byleth recognized as Dorothea. Byleth scowled, pointing her axe at the coming stampede of concern and wide eyes. “Back.”

“But—what’s _happened?” _Dorothea demanded, her voice scratchy and her eyes wild. “There was a scream… Is that Lysithea? Lysithea, are you all right?” There was no answer from the young girl shaking near the foot of the stairs. 

“I will take care of this, right now I need you all to _go_,” she said firmly, looking at Claude for a moment. He often understood her, effortlessly. They thought alike; schemers by nature and practical to a fault.

“Come on guys, Teach has this covered,” he said firmly, pulling Hilda away. There were protests, and Dorothea lingered with worried eyes, watching Lysithea. Byleth gave in, knowing Dorothea's worry would plague her all night. Claude and Hilda were far enough away now, so Byleth lowered her voice.

“Dorothea, Lysithea might not be comfortable talking to me if there are others around. If it makes you feel better, you can wait further away until I hear what happened.” This seemed to convince Dorothea, who turned and went some distance away, but still gazed with worry at the two of them.

Byleth waited a moment, watching Lysithea. The girl looked enraged. “Lysithea? What happened?”

“I saw—” she stopped herself. “Nothing. I just thought I saw something.”

“What did you think you saw?” Byleth asked, keeping her voice clinical and flat, hoping to avoid embarrassing Lysithea, which would only make her shut down even more. It didn’t work. Lysithea only shrugged, refusing to look at Byleth’s face. “Lysithea, if something seemed out of the ordinary—”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

It was absolutely not nothing. Byleth couldn’t do much else, however, short of shake the girl over the edge of the staircase and demand that Lysithea confess what had scared her so that Byleth could put an axe in its head and take that look off her little student’s face. But Byleth couldn’t do that. So Byleth escorted Lysithea to her room, walked in, and checked the whole space for traps and clues. She found nothing.

“Good night, Lysithea. Please, if anything happens, do not hesitate to call me.”

Lysithea had once called on her because she was scared of ghosts (or rather, _emphatically __not scared of ghosts, but please, Professor… Won’t you walk me to the dining halls?)_, but apparently waking up her classmates and showing human weakness had driven the girl to clamming up, angrily refusing help.

Byleth didn’t go back to her room. She dispelled the worries of the students gathered outside now, belatedly coming to see the source of the fuss, and sent them all back to bed. 

And then she went across the dorms to the little benches and sat, axe over her knees, and waited till sunrise.

Nothing showed itself.

She went back to her room and dressed for class, strapping her usual dagger to her hip and a few extra into her boots. She walked past a mirror covered in a dark cloth without glancing at it and left early, eyes straight ahead, and avoided every sympathetic, curious, or impressed whisper or stare aimed at her as she went.

“Hey, Lysithea?”

Lysithea looked up and saw who it was. She went back to her book, mouth pulled into a grim line. “Hello, Hilda. How are you today?”

“I’m great! I was looking to talk about how you were doing, actually.” Lysithea twitched, and then pretended she hadn’t, flipping a page of the book. She responded in what she hoped was the tone of indifference she had practiced every day since meeting Professor Byleth.

“There’s no need to talk about that,” Lysithea said. "Because I am doing fine." Hilda took a seat next to her, politely crossing her legs at the ankles and folding her hands in her lap. Lysithea longed to have half the poise and control Hilda did, to have it all so perfectly put together that no one minded if she yelled or kicked her feet or stomped around or was mean to them.

“Ok, we don’t have to talk about that, then,” Hilda said easily, pulling a book towards her. Lysithea had taken out about ten from the shelves and piled them all around her, burying herself almost literally in work. “We can talk about the professor.”

Lysithea looked up at that, unable to keep the tentative question from her voice or the sudden interest from her face. “We can,” she agreed. “What about the professor?”

“Haven’t you noticed that she’s down lately?”

“It’s natural that she is. You’d be too. If you… If…” Lysithea felt a pang, as she often did, for her beloved professor’s sake. She cleared her throat. “What about it?”

Hilda picked up the book she had taken and tilted it towards her mouth, with a look of someone engaging in harmless gossip. Lysithea knew Hilda was working her usual magic, but she did not know to what end. She scowled, envious and impressed. It was working, even though she knew it was happening, it was working. Hilda tapped the book against her chin a few times with a conspiratorial look, and Lysithea leaned in, pulled in by the allure of a shared secret with someone so effortlessly impressive.

“The professor has been in so much pain lately, she doesn’t even rise to Claude’s bait,” Hilda said. “She’s finally started smiling, and now it’s all gone. All our hard work, Lysithea… It’s _gone_.”

Lysithea knew there was an angle, she _knew _there was some secret lever Hilda had her hand on, waiting to pull it and send her tumbling into a trap. She took a step onto the poorly concealed trap and braved that seemingly innocent look of rueful worry. “I’m worried about her too,” she confessed. She was. She hated seeing the professor like this, last night it was nearly unbearable. “It’s just like it was when she first got here.”

“See? _See? _But here’s the thing.” Hilda held up a perfectly polished finger. “I think I know _why _she’s been particularly tense today. Didn’t you see the grim look she gave Ignatz? He practically started crying! Right there!”

Lysithea squirmed. She remembered. The professor’s blank, steady gaze as she reviewed Ignatz’s work had reminded her too much of the night before, of how it felt to have the professor in her room, inspecting it for traps without a word, without a sign that she cared besides a tight grip on her axe and a vicious glint to her eye as she looked for anything out of place.

Her hair glinting pale in the moonlight, so alien, so different.

“_I’m the same person that I was,” _her professor had assured her. But no one could hide from pain. Pain changed you.

Lysithea hated it. “You’re itching to tell me something, so go ahead and tell me.”

“Claude and I found something last night, after everyone went back to their rooms.” Hilda reached into a pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief. She unwrapped the cloth carefully and set the item on the desk, pushing it towards Lysithea with an intense look.

Lysithea realized what it was and shot to her feet, uncaring who she disturbed in the quiet library. “You need to show her that _right now_.” She grabbed it and made to move towards the doors, ready to go running through the halls until she found Professor Byleth, or any academy teacher. Hilda stopped her easily, a hand like iron around Lysithea’s wrist, pulling her back effortlessly. Hilda didn’t even look strained as she forced Lysithea back into her seat.

“Think about it, Lissy.” Lysithea opened her mouth to protest, but Hilda kept going. “She’s overwhelmed right now. She doesn’t need this _too_. “

“But—”

“No. This is what we were trained for, right? We can take care of this! We can help the professor; we can make her life easier. Don’t you want that?” Lysithea did. She wanted that. She thought of the bland, polite look back on their teacher’s face, so young, too young to be so stoic and closed off. _All our hard work lost, indeed_.

“All right. What did you need from me?”

“We need to know what you saw, Princess,” a voice piped up from behind them. Lysithea caught Claude’s eye, unsurprised to see that smile coldly in place, practiced ease in his stance. “We know you saw something, just tell us what it was, all right?”

“Where did you find _that_?”

“Why does it matter?”

Lysithea glared, determined to out-play him. “I need to know whether or not what I saw was related.”

Claude watched her for a moment, and Lysithea almost fell for it when he shrugged his shoulders in defeat, smiling ruefully. “All right, you got us. We found it near the dormitories that morning. It was near—”

“Near the professor’s quarters.”

“Yes.”

Lysithea bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Then you can’t take a risk, it’s better to tell us. Let us have all the information, Lysithea,” Hilda practically crooned. Lysithea clenched her fists, realizing how stupid it was to hide it now.

“A ghost. I saw a ghost.”

Claude blinked at her; eyes wide. “What?”

“You heard me. I saw a _ghost_.”

Hilda looked at Claude with a strange expression, her mouth all twisted up. “What did the ghost look like?”

“Ghosts don’t _exist_,” Lysithea hissed. “So, do you see my personal conflict regarding the situation, or do you not?”

“How—” Claude cleared his voice, which had gone high pitched. Lysithea glared at him. “How do you know it was a ghost?”

“It looked dead. And wrong.”

Claude sat across from them now, a new look on his face. Actually intrigued, perhaps. “See-through?”

“No, but dead. Ghosts are dead, aren’t they?”

“They’re also… you know.” He wiggled his fingers. “_Woooooo_. Like that.”

Lysithea crossed her arms and glared. “Those are just in stories, Claude. If someone actually came back from the dead, wouldn’t they be rotting?”

Hilda hummed. “Well, I guess that’s true. But a ghost is usually a spirit. Sort of not there. Like a shadow?” Claude considered this.

“So, just to be clear, what you saw was definitely dead, but not exactly a ghost.”

“Yes.”

“It didn’t attack you?”

“No.” Lysithea looked away in shame. She had run away screaming like a _child_. She had lost her chance to be useful to the professor, to help her in a time of need.

Claude tapped the table with his fingers, thinking. “We should return to the scene of the crime.”

“What crime?”

“I just wanted to try saying that. Come on, let’s go quickly, before lunch ends and everyone rushes out.”

“Urgh,” Hilda groaned. “I’m hungry. Can’t we go after lunch?”

“No,” Lysithea said firmly. “We need to go now.”

Hilda pocketed the gleaming black dagger and they left. It weighed heavily in Lysithea's mind.

“Find anything?”

Lysithea shook her head, more discouraged than ever. “Maybe we should just show the professor.”

“No, not yet. What if it’s nothing?”

“It’s not nothing. I want to help but I don’t want to make problems for her either.”

“Stick with us, Lysithea, and you’ll never have another problem again. I guarantee.”

Lysithea narrowed her eyes. “I doubt that,” she snapped. “I’ll wait a bit longer, but if we find nothing, I’m telling the professor.”

“Teacher’s pet. You’re _such _a teacher’s pet.”

“You’re just jealous that I’m her favorite.”

Claude frowned. “Hey, everyone knows _I’m _her favorite.”

Hilda stomped her foot and glared at them. “Stop that. Stop rubbing it in. Focus on your dumb investigation.”

“_Our _dumb investigation.”

They turned helplessly to the stretch of wall where Claude had found the dagger, seeing absolutely nothing of note. The silence stretched on until Hilda groaned, flopping down into a squat with her head in her arms. “I guess there’s nothing to be done. It’s a dead end.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” came a soft voice. Lysithea spun around to see Marianne watching them, her eerie, shadowed eyes strangely level.

“Marianne?”

“I guess this is about the professor?”

“Yeah, but like, we have it handled,” Hilda called, her head still cradled in her arms in a ridiculous squat. “Buzz off, gorgeous.”

“No. I know something too.”

Hilda’s head shot up, her face beaming with a charming smile. “Oh, you’re beautiful. Tell us everything!” Marianne frowned. Hilda sighed. “Please. What? Being called beautiful isn’t enough for you spooky types?”

“Hilda, behave.” Claude stepped forward, his suave and elegant act back on, seamlessly. Lysithea almost bought it. “Marianne, you bless us with your presence, fair lady.”

“I know where something is,” Marianne said, turning away without a pause for either Hilda or Claude. “It’s something you’ll want to see. Come to my room tonight, midnight.” She left.

“She’s gotten almost, like, healthy recently." Hilda said, impressed. "Relatively speaking. Did you guys notice?”

They met up in Marianne’s room that night, as agreed. Lysithea arrived a little late because the professor was sitting in front of the dorms again, an axe slung over her legs. Her eyes were deadened, but she seemed to force a small smile when she caught Lysithea’s gaze. She looked terrible. Lysithea shuddered and went out the back, crawling out the window and taking the back ways into the dormitories.

“I thought she was doing better,” Lysithea muttered, settling in on Marianne’s bed. “She got that light back in her eyes, and then—” She fell silent. And then she had been infused or something with the Goddess’s power. Lady Rhea walked about in delight, constantly beaming and smiling and sighing, and Professor Byleth looked hollowed out and so _tired_. It was horrible.

Marianne looked into the mirror she held in her hand, angled it so that she could see when the professor left. If she did.

“How did _you _find the ghost?”

“Ghost? Is that what you’ve called it?” Marianne asked tentatively, her mild ways back in a subtle way. “I thought it was a specter.”

Claude looked at her with interest from his place on the floor. “A specter?”

“Like a ghost, but repeating movements constantly. Memories of life.”

Hilda shuddered. “_Oh _my goodness, stop. You’re freaking me out. How do you know this stuff?”

“Mercedes loves this sort of thing. She reads ghost stories all the time and tells me all about it.”

“Since when were you so close to Mercedes?” Claude asked, in interest.

“Since I found out that I like ghost stories too,” Marianne said quietly. Lysithea shuddered, unable to see what Marianne saw in the things. Ghost stories always made her feel like a child, or a weakling fool tricked into being scared of what clearly didn’t exist. Or, at least… what she had thought did not exist.

They waited an hour more, but the professor did not budge. Finally, the sun began to rise and so did the professor. She had not slept a single moment, had not budged. Lysithea felt sick with worry, suddenly determined to find the ghost and kill it— destroy it, whatever, just to clear her Professor’s mind.

“It’s too late now,” Marianne said finally, the sun had turned the sky a dull blueish pink and their teacher was as still as a stone sentinel. Lysithea was touched, somewhere under the mindless worry. “She hasn’t moved, and we can’t find it in the daylight.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Lysithea sighed and straightened. “No, first we have to convince her that there’s nothing to worry about.”

Claude smiled softly, fondly. “Brave Lysithea, will you go now to reassure your watchful guardian? Will you leave us, forlorn without your gentle presence?”

Lysithea turned her nose up at him and strode out of the room confidently. It was _Lysithea _that the professor was watching over, after all.

Dorothea approached her this time. She was in the library, the same spot, so that if Claude or Hilda or Marianne found anything, they could find her quickly.

“Lysithea? How are you? I hope I’m not interrupting.” Dorothea smiled at her kindly, standing a polite distance away, ready to be beckoned over or continue on her way if Lysithea seemed busy. Lysithea liked Dorothea a lot anyway, but she was so considerate and kind that her liking seemed to multiply all the time.

“I’m well, I’m so sorry for worrying you the other night.”

“No!” Dorothea shook her head earnestly, her beautiful curls bobbing and her eyes wide. “Don’t apologize. I’m so happy you’re all right. Was… was everything all right?”

Lysithea nodded, touched by Dorothea’s worry and kindness. Everyone knew Dorothea was an earnest, kind girl, but it was a different thing to have it aimed right at you. She basked in it for a moment before remembering herself. “I’m well. Would you like to study with me? What are you reading?”

“Oh, this? It’s a book of ghost stories Mercedes lent me! Want to read one with me?”

Lysithea shuddered. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m too busy now. Maybe another time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dorothea said seriously. “They’re _beautiful_. My favorites are the romantic ones. Lots of blood and dying.” She sighed happily and walked away, leaving Lysithea in horrified confusion.

Romantic _ghost _stories?

“Professor?” Lysithea saw that she was not the only one who had thought to come see Byleth. Claude was there.

“Lysithea.” The professor greeted her with a nod. “Good morning. How are you?”

“I’m well, Professor. But I need to speak with you, do you have a moment?”

“Yes, I have a moment. Claude, your goals seem fine. We can talk more later.”

“Wow, Teach. Make me feel welcome.”

“Claude, please.”

Lysithea strolled into the office, unable to resist the opportunity to turn to Claude with a smug smile and a shrug of her shoulders, tossing her hair out of the way so that she could silently mouth _I’m the favorite_. His look of outrage looked absolutely honest and unpracticed, because it was almost ugly.

“Lysithea?”

“Professor!” She turned around hastily, remembering why she had come with a sobering chill. She squared her shoulders. “I saw a cat that night.”

“A cat?”

“Yes, and it startled me. And I was so ashamed of being a coward and waking everyone up that I couldn’t tell you.”

“Are you saying this just to get me to sleep?”

“No.” She paused. “I want you to sleep, but I’m saying it because I’m so guilty. Professor, you’re so important to me, and knowing that I… that I’m special enough to make you worry like that? It’s great. But you should know. I’m just a scaredy cat.”

Her professor smiled softly, looking more like herself, strange eyes and pale hair aside, than she had in weeks. “Thank you for telling me, Lysithea.”

“Of course, Professor. _Please _sleep tonight.”

The professor watched her for a moment longer, silent and still smiling, something hidden in the depths. “All right, wise owl.”

Lysithea left the office with a smile and a sigh and threw a triumphant glance towards where she knew Claude had been eavesdropping. He glowered for a moment before pulling himself together.

“Just to let you know? She calls Ignatz _kiddo_.”

Lysithea felt, suddenly, the urge to stick her tongue out at Claude. She reined it in and turned away, refusing to rise to the bait.

The professor did sleep in her room that night, to their relief. Lysithea felt so relieved she nearly cried.

They met again in Marianne’s room, and Marianne again took out her elegant little compact mirror and held it angled just so, this way and that, checking the coast. She declared the coast clear of the professor, officially, and they left.

Marianne took them to a spot by the greenhouse and near the water, where small flowering bushes grew in little plots. Claude looked around in interest. “This is not far from where we found the dagger.”

Marianne nodded. “That makes sense. But I wonder why a ghost would leave a dagger behind.”

“Well,” Claude said. “We don’t actually know that the dagger and the ghost are connected. For all we know, Lysithea is leading us all on a wild goose chase.”

Lysithea shot him a look. “I’ve done nothing of the sort. I’ve offered you the truth of what I saw, and _you’ve_decided to connect the dots according to whatever logic suits you. What would a ghost have to do with that dagger?”

“As you say, I’ve connected the dots, and I’ve decided that—”

“You didn’t connect _anything_,” Hilda snapped. “It’s common sense. Look, that dagger is weird. The material is weird. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. It makes sense that a ghost dropped it!”

“That doesn’t make sense _at all_,_” _Lysithea screeched, before catching herself. “We have no proof the dagger is connected.”

Marianne shushed them viciously, but when they turned to argue she silently pointed towards the top of the green house. Lysithea shuddered. She knew what they’d see. A strange black hole opened up in the air and a woman tumbled out, hanging halfway out of the black swirling depths, an arm outstretched.

“_Save me,” _the woman moaned, terribly, blood seeping from her mouth. There was a clatter and a slide as something hit the greenhouse roof, and then the hole closed, and the woman disappeared. Claude ran towards it, sliding in his haste to reach the thing as it fell. He caught it in a hand and hissed, dropping it.

Blood poured from his fingers, she could see it, and before she knew it she was before him with a spell ready. He covered her mouth with his uninjured hand before she could finish (thank the Goddess herself) and held the other one, bleeding, far away from his body and high in the air.

Hilda took out a handkerchief and picked up the thing that had clattered from the sky. She held it up to them, and the moonlight shone on its sleek black edge. “Look,” she said. “It’s the same material.”

Grimly, Claude lowered his hand to inspect the wound. It was a clean cut, Lysithea could even see the tissue neatly separated at the edges. “You guys know who that woman was, right? That was _her_, the woman who killed Jeralt.”

“I didn’t get a good look at her face before… I ran away.” Lysithea shook her head and avoided looking at them.

“I don’t blame you,” Hilda shuddered, wrapping the dagger in the handkerchief and putting it in her pocket. “That was _horrid_.”

They stood in silence, watching the roof of the greenhouse until Claude broke the spell. “Well,” he said. “I haven’t collapsed from a poison yet, but I’m going to take an antidote anyway. Hilda?” Wordlessly, Hilda tossed him a small vial. He downed it quickly and smiled. “Bless your heart, my loyal axe-woman.”

“You owe me so much cake for carrying around your stupid antidotes,” Hida said. The words sounded right, but the tone was empty. She looked sad. “We have to tell the professor now.”

“Why? We can take care of this ourselves. Marianne, if you wouldn’t mind?” He held his hand out and Marianne passed her own over it absently, muttering until the wound was gone. “See? A healer, a strategist, a tank, and a secret weapon,” Claude said, aiming that last part at Lysithea. She felt annoyingly proud at his praise.

“It seems too personal now. She just… she should see this,” Hilda shrugged. “How has no one else seen it?” She turned away from the greenhouse and began to walk away, and the rest of them followed her lead.

“Strong curfew rules that we keep ignoring?” Lysithea piped up. “That seems the most likely reason, right?”

“That’d be it, yes,” Claude conceded, falling into step beside her. “We’re such a delightful roguish bunch, aren’t we? Breaking rules, investigating, and all that. It’s so nice doing it with a group. I usually do it all on my own, it gets so lonely. I found the Holy Tomb, you know, and I didn’t even have the chance to brag about it.”

Hilda shot him a look over her shoulder. “You’re bragging right now, forgive us if we don’t pity you.”

“Wow. Come on, admit it, it’s a little cool.”

Hilda shook her head in exasperation

Marianne spoke quietly, but somehow interrupting his nonsense as cleanly as if she had snapped. “I think Hilda’s right. I think the professor has a right to know.”

With a sigh that seemed to come from his soul, Claude shook his head in exasperation. They stopped in front of the steps where Lysithea had cowered a few nights before. “Fine, we’ll tell her. But only after we do more research.”

“No, we need to tell her before someone else sees this and lets the cat out of the bag.”

“Too late,” came a new voice from behind them. Lysithea spun around, barely managing to keep her scream down. It was Dorothea. “Spit it out,” she said. “What on _earth _are you guys up to?”

“Golden Deer business, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Grow up, Claude.”

“No.”

Lysithea cut into this pointless petulance quickly, before it became some kind of bizarre brawl. “Dorothea, you’ve noticed how upset the professor is lately, right?”

“Of course,” Dorothea said, an air of determination settling around her. “I’ll do anything to help, all right? Just tell me how to.”

Lysithea looked at Claude who seemed begrudgingly convinced and shrugged at her look and gestured at Dorothea with a flourish, as if to say, “she’s all yours.” Lysithea narrowed her eyes, choosing to accept this as permission and told Dorothea the lie about the cat that startled her. Dorothea listened intently, but when Lysithea finished a look of fierce determination shone in Dorothea’s eyes.

“All right. I’m telling the professor that you’re lying.”

“What?_” _Claude demanded, clearly just as taken aback as Lysithea felt, because Lysithea felt her heart plummet from her chest. Claude glared at her. “What kind of actress are you?”

Dorothea scoffed, shoving past him and closer to the stairs. She was really going to go knock on the professor’s door. "I’m the only one actually thinking of our professor right now. You guys are being horribly selfish.” Hilda vaulted from the top of the stairs to the bottom, landing solidly in front of Dorothea and laying that vice grip on Dorothea’s shoulder. Dorothea gasped in shock. “Hilda? How strong _are _you?”

“Impossibly strong,” Hilda said. “How about we talk about this Dorothea, sweetie? Let’s have a seat and talk, diva to diva.” Dorothea frowned and sent a spark of electricity up Hilda’s hand, eyes widening when Hilda smiled wider and bore it without breaking her gaze.

“Oh,” Dorothea whispered. “I see that I have made a tactical error.” Claude snorted and crossed his arms.

“Want to tell us what you’re thinking? Or do we just shove you in a closet somewhere till you control yourself?” He gasped as Dorothea clearly sent him a little gift like the one Hilda had ignored.

“Think of it. She’s just lost her father; she’s had her whole life change. Do you know what it’s like not to recognize yourself? It’s the worst feeling on a good day, she’s been having a bad day for weeks. If anything happens to you guys, she’ll never forgive herself. She loves you a lot. She deserves to know whatever the truth is.”

Lysithea caught Marianne’s gaze, she looked like she was in agreement.

“All right, your reasoning is fair. But there’s no danger to us, we just don’t want to worry her.”

“She’d rather be worried about you over nothingthan ignorant and happy, and she’s _not _happy, and it’s clearly not nothing. I saw Lysithea that night too. We all did. She wouldn’t get scared like that over a _cat_. I know it. So, what have you accomplished?” Hilda took her hand off of Dorothea’s shoulder as she spoke, eyeing the others with a guilty look.

Claude threw his hands up. “Fine. But this is still Golden Deer business.”

“Very well, I can respect that. But I’m watching you guys. If the professor looks any sadder, I’ll kill you all,” Dorothea said firmly. “Oh, and Marianne, you look so much happier lately. I’m so happy to see one of us doing well. You’re glowing!”

Marianne looked at them helplessly, her lately-slightly-less-sickly pallor going pink. Hilda shook her head as Dorothea left. “She’s better at this than I am.”

“That’s because she’s _honest_,” Claude said. “And you’re a little sneak.”

“From one sneak to another, Claude, you had better watch yourself. We nearly got infiltrated just now.”

Byleth knew something was up. She could tell by watching Ignatz watch Claude.

Claude was unreadable, often impossible to understand, cold deep inside; he didn’t reveal anything unless he wanted to. And then you could be mostly sure that he wanted you to see it. But sometimes Hilda or Lysithea would say something outrageous and his mask would slip, or Lorenz would open his mouth and _actual_annoyance and irritation would show through his haze of self-assurance and charm. Byleth learned to watch the others to watch him.

_Something’s going on with the little ones_, she thought again, pointedly, and then remembered Sothis wouldn’t answer. She left the room after instructing the students to revise each other’s work until the end of the hour, ashamed of the lump in her throat and her own weakness. So much for keeping it together, she couldn’t even supervise her students without melting down like a candle.

Her room that night greeted her like a skeleton. It was empty, clean like someone disinfected it for days, and cold, colder still with the black sheet over the mirror. It made the room feel unoccupied even as she slept in it and woke in it. But she couldn’t handle the sight of herself right now, so the sheet remained.

There were suddenly entire lists of things she could not handle lately. She was strangely grateful, for example, that Claude still had her father’s diary. Tonight was one of those nights, and if she had that book before her now she was certain she would lose herself in its pages, reading, grieving…

Something wasn’t right with the little ones, somewhere, but she couldn’t pin it. Ignatz watched Claude, who watched no one and only stared at the desk while everyone watched _her_. But that wasn’t unusual either; everyone watched her now. She couldn’t seem to escape from everyone watching her, all the time. Even Marianne, who so often preferred to gaze out windows or at patterns in the wood of her desk, watched her.

She got into bed, pulling the covers over her head and struggling against the emptiness and fullness at war inside her. Tears came, as they always did, but here under the covers there was a kindness to them. Like Sothis’s kindness behind her barbed comments. Byleth missed her.

The thought came to Byleth that night, as she lay in bed with the moonlight dancing on the walls. _She was the problem_. Something was bothering her students, and it was _her_. Stifling a sob, she rolled over and something loosened in her as she fell asleep. She could almost imagine Sothis nearby, watching, silent. _Wish you were here to yell at me_.

Ignatz yanked at a weed, pulling it out of the ground and tossing it over his shoulder. Neither he nor Claude spoke a word, but Ignatz didn’t need to speak to see that something wasn’t right. Claude played his parts well, but there was one thing he could never fake, and that was how much he cared about Professor Byleth. He wasn’t even looking at her lately, which meant he was purposefully _not looking _at her.

Surveying the little plot of land he’d been assigned, Ignatz spared a glance for Claude. Their leader was kneeling in the dirt, sure, and there was a frown on concentration on his face, but not a single weed from his side had been pulled. Frowning, Ignatz went to find Raphael.

Claude walked right into Ignatz’s ambush that afternoon. “Is this an intervention?” he demanded as Flayn shut the door behind him, smiling sweetly. Her curls bobbed as she bounced over to Leonie’s side, her smugness made Claude particularly irritated right now, but at least _someone _was having fun.

Leonie scoffed from her place atop the professor’s desk. “It should be, you need one,” she said. “Just tell us what we want to know.”

“You know, if you’re going to corner a guy, you’d better be ready to interrogate him or pay him for his trouble.”

With a sweet smile, Leonie nodded at Raphael, who stepped aside. Marianne stood behind him, biting her lip and looking guilty. But not too guilty. 

“Traitor,” Claude gasped. “What did they offer you? Compliments?”

Marianne fidgeted uncomfortably. “I just don’t think it’s right anymore. I think we have to tell the professor.”

Flayn spoke, her eyebrows drawn together sharply over her too-bright eyes. “My father tried to speak with Professor Byleth the other day, and he said she seems even worse. Like a glass cup that’s been shattered, he said. So I told Marianne all about it.” Marianne winced, looking at Claude pleadingly, her eyes wide as if to say _a glass cup, shattered! Come on Claude. _All right, fine. He couldn’t blame her, he couldn’t blame anyone who cared about their teacher that much. But he could blame Ignatz.

“Well, my beloved allies and rivals,” a voice from the doorway called. Hilda stood there, Lysithea behind her, a menacing look on her owl-like face. “I think we can agree that this calls for a team meeting.” Claude looked around, noting that yes, indeed, the whole House was gathered. How had he been so distracted that he didn’t even notice _Ignatz _scheming?

“Where’s Lorenz?” Leonie asked. “If it’s going to be a group effort, we should probably get him.”

Claude snorted. “Lorenz is clueless, as usual. Send Ignatz to get him.”

“Why me?”

“Punishment.”

“How about we just meet in Marianne’s room at midnight?” Ignatz shrugged. “Isn’t that what you guys have been doing?”

Claude smirked as Marianne’s face fell in horror at the thought of squeezing eight of her classmates into her already cluttered and hectic bedroom, momentarily dropping Ignatz down from his hit-list. “That sounds perfect, Ignatz. What do you say Marianne?”

Marianne glowered at them all from her place on the bed, cradling her pillow to her chest. “We’re all here, so can we _go_?” Claude smirked at her, clearly enjoying her irritation. She watched Lorenz poke at a book on her shelf with curiosity, feeling a sigh build up somewhere in her toes and begin to leak out of her. But she couldn’t give Claude the satisfaction.

“Not yet, all right? We’re still waiting for—” Claude seemed to do a quick headcount. “Uh—”

“For me?” Lysithea said, walking in and closing the door behind her. She folded her hands in front of her and stood watching them. “Well, I’m here. Whatever we’re going to do, we have to do it now.”

“What’s going on guys? You’ve been yanking us around all day." Raphael sat next to Marianne, his weight unsettling her from her spot and tipping her over a little. She didn’t make a move to stop it, and he put an arm out casually, pulling her back upright. “Your bed is _really _soft Marianne, what’s inside it?”

Marianne blushed, the nobles often brought their own bedding, but she was ashamed of it suddenly. “Nothing… feathers maybe?”

Raphael shrugged. “Feels amazing, forget your little mission, guys. Let’s just nap here.”

“No!” Everyone turned to Lysithea, who blushed and straightened even more, if it was possible. “We have to figure this out as soon as possible. The professor is going to figure out something’s up soon, especially if we’re all in on it.”

Leonie sighed. “Then tell us, we’ve been asking you to tell us for hours!”

Lysithea and Hilda exchanged looks, and Claude stepped up when they seemed unable to decide who would go first. “Lysithea saw something weird that night, but she wouldn’t talk and Teach was clearly worried. So, Hilda and I went investigating. I figured Lysithea must have ran some distance, because she was out of breath. Hilda disagreed, but I was proven right in the end.” He spared Hilda a smug smirk, not having had the opportunity to gloat till now.

“I thought it was a panic attack,” Hilda shrugged.

“No one panicking has the headspace to glower like Lysithea does. She doesn’t panic.”

Lysithea winced. “I did, once, remember?”

Marianne remembered, unhappily, the sight of their professor stumbling from the force of the arrow striking her chest. She could see, from the corner of her eye, Raphael shifting unhappily and looking at Leonie with concern. Marianne pulled the pillow tighter to her chest when Ignatz shuddered. “That was terrible,” he whispered, his voice carrying in the suddenly dead silence. “You just kept _screaming.” _Leonie patted his arm, her face drawn with concern.

“That… all right, but if you guys aren’t handling _that _well, you might not handle this well either,” Claude said tightly, clearly just as affected, but he gestured for Hilda to do something. Hilda pulled out two white bundles and began to unwrap them on Marianne’s desk. Marianne let go of the pillow for the first time since her room became an active hub and peered over Lorenz’s shoulder. She gasped. _No. _

“Those… that’s the same material…” Leonie looked choked; she took a step back, straight into Raphael’s waiting arm. He put it around her shoulder solidly and squeezed her close. “That’s like what killed the Captain. We can’t show—we _have _to show the professor. I… I don’t know.”

Marianne looked down at the daggers, their glossy surfaces reflecting the moonlight in a deadly, disgusting way.

“I don’t know either. But we only have a few hours before that woman shows up again. I guess since we’re all here, we should decide together what to do with her.”

“What do you mean?” Lorenz asked. “We are _going _to tell the professor, and the professor can deal with the matter. It's only right.”

“No, think about it. When the professor disappeared, when she… when she came back all glowy eyes and scary hair, remember who disappeared with her?”

“That woman, Kronya. Monica?” Leonie shook her head. “No, Kronya. We should kill her.”

“You didn’t see her. She’s not far from dying, she keeps asking us to save her. Like she asked Professor Byleth to, remember?” Hilda looked at Claude as she spoke, like she wanted him to back her up.

“She’s _dead_,” Lysithea said, her voice firm and strong. “That woman is dead. We’re not seeing her final moments; she’s not begging us to save her. She’s begging the professor.”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Marianne said gently. “Remember?”

Lysithea glared at her with a darkened face. “I remember. I’m not a _child, _but that woman is dead!”

Flayn spoke up for the first time, clearing her throat to get their attention. “It’s possible that I can shed some light on the situation,” she said. Marianne looked at her, then looked at everyone else looking at each other. Flayn puffed up. “I know infinitely more things than _any _of you!”

Claude smiled widely. “What’s adultery?” Lysithea and Marianne’s looks of horror matched.

Flayn smiled beatifically. “Adulthood!”

Claude turned away, looking at them meaningfully. “Perfect, there we have it, so we agree that we should hurry up and make a move, right?”

“I am not finished speaking!” Flayn said haughtily. “I believe that this woman is an imprint. Whatever magic Tom… I mean Solon, used, it transported both Professor Byleth and the assassin into another dimension. He said they were doomed, but it was the magic and aid of the Goddess that brought the professor back, right? So where did that leave Kronya?”

Claude looked intrigued. “It leaves her in the dimension, unless Teach breaking out shifted things enough in there that she half slipped out.”

“See? Not a ghost, an imprint of black magics on the fabric of our own reality.”

“So, why the greenhouse?” Lorenz asked, curiously.

“Well, I don’t have _all _the answers. Why don’t _you _find out “why the greenhouse?” Flayn snapped. Ignatz patted Lorenz’s arm gently and then grabbed it when Lorenz tried to hit Claude for laughing.

Leonie stood and went to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go tell the professor.”

“Would you _stop? _We said we’d decide together.”

“No,” Leonie told Claude. “_You _said we would decide together. I have decided to decide by myself. Have fun ghost hunting, I’m going to go tell the professor. You’re either with me or against me.”

“Against you,” Hilda declared. “We’re all against you. I’m the leader’s best friend so I’ve decided you’re excommunicated from the House, bye Leonie!”

Marianne sighed. “Guys, let’s go see the ghost, all right? That way we can do some more investigating and we can come up with a better plan. We don’t have much time left.” Besides, Marianne thought to herself, if this is really a remnant, an imprint of power, power wasn’t infinite. It _would _run out. And then this whole mess would be over, and she’d have her room to herself.

She should never have offered it.

Byleth was charmed. She thought it was charming that they did not know that _she knew_ they were up to something. She had paired Ignatz with Claude for the garden duty, knowing that it would give Ignatz plenty of time to observe Claude and decide whether or not there was anything to pursue.

She was there, in the dining hall, when Ignatz went to find Raphael. She did not hear what they said, but she saw their looks of determination when they confronted first Leonie, and then Flayn. As their numbers grew and gathered in the classroom, Byleth happened to be upstairs in the building across the academy when they cornered Claude, who she made sure did not dally on his way back to the classroom for his evening study-session. She smiled, really honestly smiled, for the first time in a long time, watching them harangue each other.

From her room she could hear their footsteps as they left towards wherever they were going. Now fully curious, she followed, her axe by her bedside. Not forgotten, but not needed. She followed them to the greenhouse, three daggers hidden away in various parts of her clothing.

“This is where the ghost shows up,” Marianne said mildly. Lysithea immediately stomped her foot.

“Ghosts _aren’t real! _It’s a dead woman! Hanging out of a hole!”

“An imprint of black magics on the fabrics of time torn asunder by the Goddess’s powers!” Flayn said, clapping her hand in delight. “I bet it has appeared _here _because the professor loves these flowers so much!”

Claude seemed to consider this. “That’s a good point. Her magic might be lingering everywhere, but maybe here it’s especially strong. The same magic that rent a hole in the dimension beckons its fabric to undo _here. _All because the professor likes flowers.” Claude moved towards the greenhouse, Lysithea behind him with a small ball of flame aloft to see in the shadows. “Come on guys, take your positions.”

They shuffled about into their agreed upon places, watching the roof with trepidation and some fear. Raphael and Leonie took the west, Ignatz and Lorenz the eastern bushes, while Claude and Lysithea lingered by the wall to the right of the greenhouse itself. Flayn was standing before the greenhouse itself, her hand up and waiting, ready to send a spell strong enough to shake the woman free. Marianne flanked her, trying not to let her knees knock together in fear.

“_Save me, Professor,” _came the voice, finally. Marianne felt a shiver go down her spine. It was just as horrible the third time she heard it. “_Won’t you save me? You’ve saved me before.”_

Flayn grit her teeth and sent some burst of energy towards the figure hanging out of the black hole, but the force seemed to shake it loose, and the woman came tumbling out. Claude cursed, running to watch it fall.

But it did not fall.

The woman seemed to be alive, barely. She caught herself on the greenhouse roof, bleeding and breathing heavily. Her eyes swiveled.

“_You._” She hissed. “_She loves you_.” She looked at them all, then a wicked smirk grew on her face. “_My revenge… served so nicely.” _She pulled from the strange protrusions in her uniform black blades, throwing them with deadly aim. Claude just barely managed to dodge, but one hit Lysithea in the arm. She winced, whimpering as she pulled back, her magic rising to strike back and heal without missing a moment.

She didn’t need to. A figure rose behind the woman and took her head in two armored hands, snapping her neck cleanly and hauling her up. It was their professor.

Marianne watched, horrified, as their beloved teacher lifted the woman and tossed her bodily back into the hole, sealing it with a hand and a shudder. When Professor Byleth looked back at them her gaze was flat, unmoved. She slid down the roof and landed neatly on the ground.

“Children,” she said, still blank, still flat. Marianne flinched. “Return to the classroom immediately. No arguments; just go. Claude? A word, if you please.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Teach,” Claude said, not above pleading. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that maybe you needed a break. That me and Hilda could handle this on our own. We had it covered; Lysithea would have eviscerated that woman. You _know _she would have. She's stronger than half the students here.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What’s the point, then? Are you mad that we went behind your back? This is the _point _of teaching us. We’re going to be doing this stuff anyway.”

“I understand. I don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me. You tell me…” _You tell me everything_, she had been about to say. Claude looked at her, realizing for the first time that they were the same height. She was so young. She didn’t act young, she took on the role of their mentor so easily, but she was young and in pain too.

“No offense, Teach, but you didn’t seem up to it.” The professor flinched, and Claude regretted his wording. “I mean, we care about you, and it worries us to see you like this. So we… We thought this would help.”

“So, like Lysithea, lying that she saw nothing, you behaved like a child grasping at adulthood.”

“Fair, that’s fair, but if you want me to apologize? I won’t.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” she said, turning away. “Come with me.”

She walked away, the glint of the moon on her pale hair unsettling and strange. He followed, plotting against her every step of the way, horrified by her admission.

When they arrived at the classroom they were greeted by a strange scene. The whole class looked as if the professor was back to pass out final grades, their faces were so drawn and anxious. Even Lorenz was biting his lip, his face looking more like a pallid opera mask than ever.

Claude stepped forward, assuming his role as leader easily, making sure they were all listening. “Golden Deer? Professor Byleth wishes to apologize for failing you, I’m sure we have things to say to that, don’t we?” He barely finished his statement before the outbursts began. He stepped back, bowing with a flourish as Byleth glared at him. “Have fun,” he mouthed, and went to sit at his usual seat. He propped his feet onto the desk, leaned back with his arms behind his head, and watched as his well-trained House gave their professor the most affectionate and earnestly caring dressing-down he’d ever seen.

“Professor? Flayn has not returned—Oh,” Seteth froze in the doorway of Byleth's room.

“Seteth, good morning.” For it was morning, and the sun for once did not weigh on her skin like a burn. Her mind was clear, but in a pleasant way, and she did not feel alone.

“I… Flayn has fallen asleep? Around _people_?”

“Looks like it. She refused to lie down, she just slept sitting up. Her and Marianne are such a pair.”

“You _all _slept here?”

“Well, I didn’t,” Byleth said honestly. “Claude hasn’t slept either. Greet Seteth, Claude.”

Claude looked almost sullen, _almost_, but he greeted Seteth politely enough. Curious. He disapproved of Seteth’s actions for the church, especially when it came to censorship, but he had never been blatantly rude outside of those confrontations. Byleth readjusted Lysithea’s head on her lap and leaned forward to shake Flayn awake. “Flayn? Flayn!”

Flayn’s head moved reluctantly away from the light as her eyes opened. “Professor?”

“Seteth is here, if you wish to go back with him?”

“Five more minutes,” Flayn muttered, turning away from the light completely. Byleth looked at Seteth apologetically. “Sorry.”

“It’s… it’s fine.”

“I… would you like to come in? There’s some room… well, there’s no room at all, actually.”

“How did you pile so many of them into the bed?”

“It’s cold, they did the piling themselves.”

Silence, during which Claude looked between them, the same sullen expression on his face. “I’m sorry," Seteth said, awkwardly. "I will take my leave. Flayn looks happy… and, if I may say so? You do too, Byleth.”

“I feel better,” Byleth confessed. “You were right. What you said, before.”

Seteth gave her one last, slightly shaky, smile, and then he left.

“He is _so _weird,” Claude said, breaking the silence that followed. Or, the almost silence. Raphael and Leonie snored.

“He really is,” Byleth agreed. A small hand came up and patted her cheek, and when she looked down, she saw Lysithea’s fierce eyes, a little sleepy, on her.

“Professor, you need to sleep. You need your rest, all right?”

For a long time, Byleth’s heart didn’t beat, she knew that from her father's journal entries. It had been dormant for so long. But that stiff, unmoving heart was filled with such warmth and love now. She took Lysithea’s hand and tucked it safely by her side. This must be what having a sister felt like. She’d always wondered. “I will. I’ll nap now, see?” She shut her eyes to prove it, tilting her head back against the wall, happy when Lysithea laughed, heavy with sleep.

She actually did drift off to sleep, then. But before her mind was gone, she heard Lysithea whisper: “You’re not so bad, Claude. We may be friends. Professor needs people like us to care for her, you know.”

And Claude’s response made her smile: “Honored to serve beside you in this noble venture, Princess. Take care of her, I’m going to--”

And she slept. 


End file.
